.
Whoever
did it (we’d heard it was a lady),
we never
will know: after she’d done it, she
cleared
out her brushes and washes and paints
and
proceeded to go – indeed, disappeared.
.
Later
we heard from somebody who’d heard
from
somebody she’d died. Whoever she was,
she’d
applied to the thing known as Him
varied
hints of her decorous tints: deco pink
.
here,
and there, deco yellow, which caused
a stark
change to come over this aberrant fellow.
Seen,
before, only as unlovely chaos, whatever
this
Him was, had clearly acquired a wink,
.
a
new touch of guile, a sort of wry smile which
altered
Him’s former inapposite faltering
form,
which
now seemed to warm and set sail
like
a suddenly interesting craft whose strange
.
elegant
angles arrested one’s eye, fore to aft –
destined
to reach a new, welcoming shore.
Eyesore
no more, Him discovered his place,
Him was no longer waste. Him was décor.
.
.
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